


Just My Luck

by DeadlyKittenKay (PrettyBlueIz)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Castiel has the worst timing when it comes to feelings, M/M, Pining, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyBlueIz/pseuds/DeadlyKittenKay
Summary: Dean and Castiel have been best friends for years. Their friendship was always something special, even others saw how strong their bond is. One night, both men let down their walls and let each other in, but how did their actions the day after lead them to where they are now?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my entry for the DeanCas Trope Fest on Tumblr. This was sparked off a prompt found on Tumblr and I hope you all enjoy it! I'm super excited to share this with y'all!
> 
> Thanks to Rose in All Things Destiel and Cockles for looking this over for me :D

Dean was sitting at the front desk of Singer & Sons Auto Salvage and Restoration, looking through the following week’s invoices. He scratched at his growing reddish brown beard and wondered idly if he should shave it or shape it. The more logical side of him, the side that was particularly fond of his balls, knew the right thing to do would be to shave it off, since his fiancé didn’t seem to like it much. The other side, his more rebellious side, actually liked the manly look it gave him.

_ You look like a lumberjack. _

Dean sighed and closed the books. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the picture in the simple black frame on his desk. Five teenagers laughed back at him. His younger brother Sam—twelve and already starting to get taller than Dean—had his arm slung around Dean’s shoulders as he smiled. Dean—nearly sixteen at the time—was laughing and looking at his best friend, who was standing on his left. Castiel—eighteen and the reason Ellen had insisted on the photo—looked at Dean with his familiar confused but happy grin. Beside him, bubbly blond Jo, who was thirteen, and Charlie, the fourteen-year-old redhead with an infectious smile, were both sticking their tongues out at the camera.

Those were happier times for the five of them. They were all so young and full of life. Sammy had started actually putting in effort at school, determined to fulfill his dream of going to Stanford Law on a scholarship. Dean and Jo both had aspirations to follow their fathers into the military, while Charlie wanted to see the world. To live a little, as she had joked. Castiel was on the verge of going to Illinois University. A full ride, paid for by the President of the United States—all because he wrote a winning essay about their generation needing to be more active in politics.

Then, as always seemed to happen with the Winchesters and their family, life had other plans.

Sam and Dean’s parents were killed in auto accident, months after the picture was taken. While others thought how sad it was that suddenly Dean was left with a preteen to care for when he was a child himself, Dean never minded. He had always taken care of Sam before when his father was too drunk to do it himself and their mother was too depressed to get out of bed.

And Jo, just before her sixteenth birthday, had lost her father to a hunting accident, leaving her to learn the ropes of the family business, a bar and grille her parents owned called Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

Charlie, already carrying the guilt and grief of her own father’s death, came to be essentially stationed at her comatose mother’s bedside.

Of all of them, only Castiel, barely into his second year of college, seemed to be in God's good graces, as he had interned for the same President who signed his scholarship.

Despite all the crap that had happened, the five of them still remained close. Even now, with Dean working for his “Uncle” Bobby, and Jo running the bar in the town they grew up in, holidays were still spent together, mostly.

That was, until two years ago, when Dean had done something foolish.

The thing about Castiel and Dean’s friendship was that it was simply different than their relationships with the others. Castiel had once claimed it was because they had a profound bond. Whatever it was, it was as if Castiel always knew exactly when Dean needed him and why. They could communicate with looks alone, and Jo claimed that they had zero concept of personal space with each other.

Dean, being the oldest son of John I’m-the-manliest-man-to-ever-live Winchester, had repressed a lot of not-exactly-platonic feelings he’d had towards his best friend since the onset of puberty. Of course, because of his father, he had also picked up on some not so great coping mechanisms.

That’s how he’d found himself wrapped around Castiel the morning after Thanksgiving, naked, filthy, sore, and severely hung over. Dean remembered everything from the night before. He remembered the way he leaned into Castiel. The way his body heat felt in the chilly interior of the Impala. The clean smell of Castiel’s soap mixed with the watermelon shampoo he had used since they were kids and the lingering scents of the menthols he shared with Dean.

Most of all, he remembered the way Castiel’s body felt against his—solid and perfect. His lips molded against Dean’s, firm yet yielding. The taste of his mouth on Dean’s tongue, sweeter than the organic honey Castiel loved. He remembered the way his body tingled at the touch of Castiel’s hands on his overly warmed skin. So familiar to Dean, but so different than what he knew.

Dean lost his heart to Castiel that night. He was head-over-heels in love with his best friend, but he didn’t know how to say so—and then he lost the chance.

Castiel left suddenly that day, saying he needed to go back to  [ D.C.to ](https://urldefense.proofpoint.com/v2/url?u=http-3A__D.C.to&d=DwMFaQ&c=hNAZrKxPkhfPADjr9wUJ4I9GS8ZQPNEcFQu4kKjVcNw&r=DVw_raTIR0ws0hF7-I6koW4aiXH7CufIIKxgSrVngYk&m=tsTyMvIenZ2P-edqODy5V44BQOdzomQuV3wAevGQUD0&s=p-I4tfSgSC4EijWfDD-8MD8zJ4t5EvnfAkjo0j9jE_4&e=) finish a paper. Instead of waiting for Dean to take him to the airport, as he usually did, he made up an absurdly elaborate excuse about the fuel economy in Dean’s Baby not being worth the cost when Charlie’s more eco-friendly car was available. Dean saw the lie for what it as. After all, he’d done too much bullshitting in his time to not recognize it in his own best friend. 

Castiel was running. Running from what happened. Running from what  _ might _ happen. Running from Dean.

Dean tried to not let it hurt him. He even convinced himself that it didn’t and tried to move on. Eventually a week turned to a month, a month to three months—and then he found Lisa. She was everything Castiel wasn’t. Everything Dean needed to get over his stupid infatuation with his friend.

Then, finally, Dean had gotten a call from Castiel. A year had passed since he had seen his friend, and Dean had felt as if his heart was going to burst just hearing his voice. Their talk was short, due to a meeting Castiel had to attend, and they completely avoided the topic of Thanksgiving, but it had made things a little better.

As time went on, Dean did what was expected and proposed to Lisa. She wanted it all. Family, kids, a dog. The all-American home with the picket fence. The husband that she would greet every night with a kiss and a beer—and Dean was determined to give it to her. He was even going to go as far as asking Castiel to be his best man. After all, he was his best friend. Sure he had Sammy, but it just had to be Cas there at his side. Everything in him said that.

Dean had prepared an email. Even had both Sam and Lisa look it over to make sure he hadn’t misspelled something or used the wrong words. Sam had given him shit about sending an email to ask “someone” to be in your wedding party, but Dean felt it would be easier than the awkward conversations they had been having. Not to mention, with Castiel’s busy schedule helping out on the Clinton campaign, he didn’t exactly have much time for socializing.

It didn’t work out that way. The email sat in his draft folder, waiting for the “perfect” time to send it. Instead, Dean finally broke down and joined the twenty-first century and bought himself a smartphone. Dean would maintain till his dying day that it was Sam’s fault that things didn’t go according to Dean’s plans. The bitch knew that Castiel would pick up the facetime call. Dean was uncertain about doing it; since the news had just announced the newest President elect was not the one Castiel was working for, he was pretty sure his friend was not going to be in a socializing mood.

“All the more reason to call him,” Sam had simply replied to squash Dean’s concern.

When Castiel’s tired smile showed up on the little screen of the phone, Dean had the suspicion that he wasn’t as completely over that night as he had hoped.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Dean,” Castiel had joked.

Dean had rolled his eyes but smiled at his friend. Honestly, he felt more worried about Castiel than anything. From what he had heard from everyone else, he had put in a lot of hours campaigning and trying to get the younger generations excited to vote.

The call started with awkward small talk and eventually flowed into Castiel’s retelling of Charlie’s visit to D.C. Just when Dean started to relax, Sam brought up the wedding.

Castiel had shifted on his bed, making the focus in his side show the wall of the hotel room. Dean could hear him mutter something before clearing his throat.

“That’s right, Charlie mentioned you and Lisa were getting pretty serious. I suppose the customary thing is to congratulate you.”

Dean shot his best “what the hell” look at his brother who simply had shrugged in return.

“Everything okay, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean sighed, his bottom lip between his teeth. He knew this was a bad idea, and yet somehow he had let Sam talk him into it.

“I don’t think that wallpaper was a good choice,” Dean joked.

There was a soft chuckle and the screen moved to show Castiel from the bridge of his nose up. Dean frowned when he took in Castiel’s face, or what he could see of it. He looked tired, which, given how hard he’d been working, Dean supposed he could understand. His eyes though, eyes that were naturally the most brilliant blue Dean had ever seen, were dull and red-rimmed, as if he had been crying.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?” Castiel responded with a raised eyebrow.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Castiel sighed. “Yes, Dean. I’m just mentally and physically exhausted. Disappointed and heartbroken. Definitely not going on another campaign trail any time soon.”

Why was Cas heartbroken? Dean wondered. “You know, Cas, if you’re too tired to talk…”

“No, of course not, Dean. You know I’ve always enjoyed our talks.”

Sam gave Dean a thumbs up before leaving out the door and Dean let out a heavy sigh.

“You seem troubled,” Castiel commented.

“I… well…Not exactly…” Dean fumbled for his words as Castiel adjusted again. When Dean looked at the screen he could see Castiel lay on his side, the sheet covering the lower half of his body. “You still have that old thing?” Dean laughed, looking at the shirt Castiel had chosen for bed.

Castiel looked down to the threadbare gray shirt and smiled. “It’s seen better days, but it fits much better than it did when you first gave it to me.”

Dean laughs and shakes his head. “You stole it. You don’t even like AC/DC!”

“No, you gave it to me when you got us stuck out in the rain,” Castiel corrected. “You had said that you didn’t need me sick and told me to strip and get in the shower.”

Dean bit his lip and nodded. “I didn’t mean for you to keep it though.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Fine, it will be in the post by Monday.”

“Dude, keep it. It’s not that big of a deal. I just thought it was cu—” Shit! Dean thought as he cut himself off from saying cute. “Kind of funny that you still had it. I would’ve figured it would have lost the battle against the washing machine by now.”

“Not when its hand washed.”

“Seriously? You hand wash it?”

Castiel’s shoulder - the one he isn’t lying on - goes up to his ear in a shrug. “Life on the road. If I wash it in the morning, hit it with the blow dryer while getting my notes together. By the time I get back, it’s dry.”

“Makes sense,” Dean responded lamely.

They were quiet for some time. Dean was trying not to stare, but it was difficult. Castiel seemed determined to avoid looking at Dean directly, leaving Dean to wonder what was on his mind. Castiel was the first to break their silence.

“You look like a lumberjack.”

Dean scratched at the hair growing on his face and frowned. “You don’t like it?” Not that it should matter, but it does. 

Castiel sighs. “I didn’t say that. And besides, my opinion shouldn’t matter. What does Lisa think?”

“She’s not against it,” Dean says with a shrug. “But she’s not a fan either.”

Castiel laughs. “Maybe you should start adapting to the ‘happy wife, happy life’ cliché.”

“You’re gonna be there, right?” Dean asked suddenly.

“At the wedding?”

“Yeah. I need you to be there, Cas. You’re my best friend. I need you. I mean, yeah, I have Sam. But you as my best man. By my side. It just feels right, you know?”

Dean watched the screen as Castiel rolled to his back to stare at the celling. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because of our history, Dean. I don’t feel that it would be appropriate.”

“What are you talking about, Cas?”

Castiel rubs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. “You know what I’m talking about, Dean. I don’t wholly regret that night but I’m also not proud of it. I should have stopped things. Especially given how inebriated you were.”

“Cas, man. Stop. Listen, we were both drinking. I wanted that, Cas. I don’t regret it either. And I definitely don’t blame you.”

“You were so drunk, Dean.”

“But I remember everything about that night.” Dean sighed, wishing that Castiel would look at the phone and see that he was being sincere. “How about this—just think about it. Charlie said you haven’t changed much since the last time you both went to Comic Con.” Dean smiles softly and glanced at the picture on his wall of Charlie dressed as Lara Croft and Castiel as John Constantine. “So she has your sizes. According to Lis, I didn’t need to get tuxes until a month prior. So think about it, please. And I’ll get things ready for you.”

Castiel makes a noise similar to admitting defeat. “I need to go, Dean.”

That call was over two months ago and Dean hadn’t heard a word from Cas. He knew Cas was okay, thanks to weekly updates from Charlie, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if, because he’d let a little liquid courage take over, he had permanently destroyed the one relationship he didn’t want to ruin.

Sam came into the office breaking Dean of his thoughts as he tossed a stack of mail in front of him. He watched his younger brother throw all six foot four of himself into the chair across the way and give Dean a sullen look.

“Who died, Sammy?”

“I hope no one.” Sam gestured to the stack of mail.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s dramatics and picked up the stacks.  _ Bill. Bill. Credit Card ad.  _ It wasn’t until the return postage from D.C. did Dean stop his shuffling. He dropped the rest of the stack to rip open the letter.

A small three by five card falls out from the folded paper inside. He recognized the response card almost immediately, having had to help Lisa triple check the guest list. It was the response itself that had him cursing.

_ Mr. Castiel Novak _

_ __  Will be attending _

**_X_** _Send his/her regrets and will not be attending_

“What did he say?” Sam asked. Dean glared at him.

“You know damn well what he said.” He snapped at his little brother while looking at the postmark on the envelope. “Damn it, Cas.” The date was two days ago. Dean couldn’t believe that Castiel had waited this long to send his response.

Without a logical thought, Dean angrily punches the phone number into the desk phone. A number he’s known for years. He grinds his jaw as the other line rings. He wanted an explanation. He didn’t care that he wasn’t going to be there, Dean was more upset that he waited so long to let him down.

“ _ Uh… yes… Hello. You’ve reached the cellular device of Castiel Novak. I’m unable to take your call at this time. Thank you.” _

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose waiting for the beep. “What the hell, Cas? Call me.” He slammed the phone down and glared at Sam again.

“In my defense I found out last night through Charlie.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less, Sammy.” Dean responded, the fight in him suddenly gone.

~♫♪♫~

Before Dean knew it, the wedding was nearly upon him. In fact, it was in less than thirty-six hours and while he’d never admit to it, he’d already managed to have several panic attacks throughout the day.

He had to give his groomsmen and Charlie credit. They were doing great reigning in the side of Dean that was spiraling out of control. Even at this moment, when he should be getting ready for the rehearsal, they—Sam, Charlie and Benny—were deflecting Lisa and her family smoothly. He knew they’d had to use various excuses, ranging Dean being in the bathroom to him needing a quick nap.  In truth Dean was pacing, making himself sick, and was currently on the verge of some very un-manly like hysterics.

The worst part of it all wasn’t how Dean was reacting to getting married, but the fact that all he could think doing in his self-induced frenzy was how badly he wanted Cas to be there.

“Dean!” Charlie shouted at him. His pacing was stopped by Benny’s giant hands holding him in place. Dean, barely aware of what was going on, finally looked at Charlie, who was holding a phone out to him.

Confused as to who could have broken through the wall of his friends, Dean puts the phone to his ear. “’ello?” he croaks.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean collapses into a chair at the sound of Castiel’s voice. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.” There was a smile in Cas’s voice, and it broke something in Dean.

“What do you want, Cas?” His voice was suddenly calm and cool, unfamiliar to him.

“I need to talk to you, but I would rather do it face to face.”

“We can facetime.”

“No, Dean. I would prefer to do this in person.”

_ Oh God, it’s happening _ , Dean’s mind screamed. At the same time, he felt his heart shatter.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sorry, buddy. I have a rehearsal to get ready for and according to your letter, you being anywhere near the most important day of your supposed best friend’s life is an inconvenience.” A sudden bitterness seeped into Dean’s tone.

“Dean, I never—”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas. We can talk when Lisa and I get back from Vegas.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam’s jaw drop. Dean cleared his throat again, fighting against the urge to cry. “So are we done here?”

“Dean, please,” Cas pleaded.

“I gotta go,” Dean said simply before ending the call.

He looked down at Charlie’s phone, trying to remind himself to breathe. He was pretty sure he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life—and if the tension in the room wasn’t confirmation enough, he didn’t know what was.

~♫♪♫~

Rehearsals were a joke. Why did they have to practice how to walk down the aisle? That’s easy, one foot in front of the other. And the vows? They really didn’t need to practice that shit either. They were going to use whatever lines the preacher fed them.

And what was up with Lisa? She was acting strange. First it was the displeased look on her face when he picked her up. He thought he looked okay. Okay, sure, jeans, leather jacket, and a tie was possibly not the best combo, but it wasn’t like they were going any place snazzy. Besides, he shaved. She should have been happy about that, right?

Then the ride to the chapel she either gave him the cold shoulder or insulted everything. His hair was too spikey for a thirty-something-year-old. His  _ car _ was not practical and something  _ they _ will not be keeping. He should really let her cousin from Jersey stand in for Sammy, who is now best man, instead of Charlie because it’s tacky to have a female on the male side. Oh and they  _ will _ be trying for a kid as soon as they get to the hotel after the wedding, because  _ he’s _ not getting any younger.

What. The. Fuck?!

It had been nearly two years since Dean had a menthol and this day was making him want to stop at the local Gas ‘n Sip and grab a pack from Steve. Dean groans and rubs his hands over his face.

He glanced around Harvelle’s. A mix of the regulars and his friends and family were milling about the place, laughing, smiling and joking with one another, sharing stories and making plans for the future—and Dean’s heart just wasn’t in it.

Jo slid up next to him and held out a long neck. He gave her a small smile. She looked so much older in her work getup. Classic jeans and a white tank top wouldn’t do much for others, but for Jo, it was a second skin. Daughter of Ellen and William Harvelle and sole owner of Harvelle’s, since Ellen retired two years ago.

“Why are you doing this, Dean?”  Dean just shrugged and picked at the label of his beer. “Do you love her?”

Dean sighed. “I think I’m in love with the idea of her, or whatever that chick-flick shit is.”

“When you think of your future, is she there?” Dean shook his head, and Jo sighed. “Then why go through with this, Dean?”

“Because, Joanna Beth. It’s what’s expected. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be the next step.”

“What about Cas?” Jo asked softly.

Dean scoffed and took a pull of his beer before answering her. “What about him?”

“You love him.” It’s not a question.

“I can’t do this, Jo. Not today.” Dean placed his bottle on the bar and pushed his way outside. He took a deep breath, letting the cool early spring air fill his lungs. He had to give the little sister he never wanted but had ended up with nonetheless some credit. She was right. He was doing this for all the wrong reasons.

Hell, when he originally proposed to Lisa, he had thought it was what needed to be done at the time. She was pregnant. Did he want kids? Yes. Was he ready then? Hell no. Is he ready now? No.

Lisa had lost the baby. While Dean will probably go to hell for thinking this, he was glad. They weren’t ready for that. But it was too late now.

“Dean?”  He jerked his head in the direction of the voice calling his name.

“Cas?”

“I told you I needed to see you.” Castiel moved out of the shadows and Dean sucked in a breath.

Castiel was wearing the old trench coat that he’d had since high school. Tan and battered, it still looked a size too big on the man. Under that was his faded jeans and Dean’s AC/DC shirt. He looked tired but happy.

Dean opened his mouth to say something and Castiel held his hand up to stop him. “Please don’t.”

“Cas?” 

“Dean,” Cas moves closer. “I’m an idiot. I forced this wedge between us because I thought it would be easier. That we could just go on like before. Pretend that things didn’t happen that night, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else. The thought of you holding someone else at night…” He reached out and tugged on the bottom of Dean’s leather jacket. Dean could see Castiel struggling with something internally. “Kissing them.” He looked up at Dean. His eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“Cas—” Dean wanted to ask him what this was all about, but a slamming door and raised voices made both men jump apart. 

“Damn it Lisa! You couldn’t have told us this before we lost the deposit?” a voice shouted and Dean whipped his head in its direction to see Lisa and her parents.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice, barely above a whisper, brought Dean’s attention back to him. “I love you,” he said in a rush. Dean felt shell-shocked.

“What?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper too.

“I’m utterly and completely in love with you.”

Dean shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. A part of him had hoped, longed even, to hear those words from his best friend, but to hear them now, on the eve of his wedding… “I--Cas--y-you—”

“Don’t get married,” Castiel nearly begged. “Please don’t marry her. Please. Even if you don’t feel the same way for me. Please. You’re not happy. I know you’re not happy, Dean.”

“How would you know? You’re never fucking here!” Dean shouted, making Castiel flinch.

“Lisa Anne Braeden, I am disappointed in you!” Mr. Braeden’s voice carried over to Dean and Castiel. They watched as Lisa’s parents got into the car and left.

“What the fuck? Did I fall into bizzaro world?” Dean muttered as Lisa made her way over to them.

“I should go,” Cas said softly. He clearly hadn’t expected Lisa to hear him, but she looked at him and shook her head.

“No, Castiel. Stay.” She looked at Dean and gave him a sad smile. “I can’t do this.” She removed the simple solitaire diamond from her hand and held it up. The street lights reflected off of it. “I don’t love you, Dean, and I know you don’t love me.” She grabbed his hand and had him open his fist so his palm was facing upwards.

She gave a small shrugs and placed the ring into his hand. “I thought with time, maybe we would learn to love each other.”

Dean closed his fingers around the dainty ring as she held her hand over his. “You’re a great guy, Dean. And I know you’ll make a great husband and father someday.” She looked over at Castiel, who had obviously been trying to avoid watching the two, not wanting to intrude.

“Take care of him, Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes slowly moved to Lisa’s big brown ones. “Of course.”

Lisa got on her toes to kiss Dean’s cheek. “Don’t let him slip through your fingers again,” she whispered before stepping away.

Dean was stunned into silence as he watched Lisa go back into the bar. In less than an hour his planned out future was shattered, and he felt lighter. As if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The crushing pain in his chest was gone. He could breathe easier.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, tentatively reaching out to him.

Dean looked at him. “Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“Please, Cas. Say  _ it _ again.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in comprehension. “I love you, Dean.”

“Would it be tacky if I were to kiss someone right after getting dumped by my fiancé?”

Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes in confusion. “Why would you think I would be a good source of knowledge for this? And who would you—” Castiel’s words were stopped by the abrupt pressure of Dean’s mouth on his. Dean was kissing him almost hard enough to hurt, but since he was kissing Castiel like he was air he needed to breathe, Castiel couldn’t find it in him to be bothered. 

The two men broke apart to the sounds of wolf whistles, clapping, and shout of “About time!” that Dean  _ strongly  _ suspects came from Sam. Dean cupped Castiel’s face in his hands, his thumb brushing the fallen tears from under his bright blue eyes. 

“How about we get a drink and get to know each other again?” Dean asked. Castiel responded by smiling and leaning in for another kiss.

/ _The End_

**Author's Note:**

> For those curious as to what the prompt was you can find it [here](http://i1249.photobucket.com/albums/hh504/DeadlyKittenKay/prompt_zpsuph0qv1r.png)


End file.
